


I Have Always been a Storm

by ariannenymerosmartell (somethingmoo)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:20:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingmoo/pseuds/ariannenymerosmartell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Have Always been a Storm

"She calls my name as shelter, not realizing I am the storm"

___________________________________________________________  
"Myrcella! Oh, my sweet, my sweet, sweet girl," her mother sobs, throwing her arms about her neck and holding her close. "Oh, my sweet, sweet, girl. I'd feared the worst."

Myrcella stands ramrod straight and still, does not make any movement to touch her mother.

"Is it true?" she asks. Her voice does not waver. It is as still and as calm as the waters had been when she and her party were smuggled back in to King;s Landing under the cover of night.  
Her mother sobs harder, clings to Myrcella tighter. "You cannot understand," she wails. "How I love you, how I love you. How I needed you. You saved me, Myrcella. My precious Princess."

"Why?" she asks in the same even tone, back straight, head lifted and proud.

"My lioness, you have been so brave," her mother says, in lieu of an answer, moving to smooth a hand over her golden hair, fingers brushing her scar. "My beautiful lioness. We are lions, Myrcella," her mother says, looking her in the eyes for the first time. It strikes Myrcella that they share the exact same eyes. Strikes her that she never once questioned why there was nothing of Robert Baratheon's to be found in her. "That is why. He was unworthy of you. Everyone who isn't us is unworthy of you."  
"You had Trystane killed." For the first time, in a long time, Myrcella feels something bubbling up in her, but she cannot name it. Rather than trying, she focuses on her mother's face, as she nods, green eyes bright and burning.

"I had to, my sweet, sweet girl. The Dornish would have killed you, Myrcella. Sold you to the Targaryen whore or worse. That scheming bitch Arianne, she would have seen you dead."

"Princess Arianne, mother," Myrcella cuts her off curtly. "And she would have seen me crowned."

"You are a Princess of the Iron Throne," her mother says, anger bursting out of her like wildfire. "It is not the Martell bitch's place to presume--"

"She would have had me be Queen. Wouldn't you have liked that mother? All you wanted was to be Queen." "

And I am," her mother says, tossing her long, golden hair, so like her own. "The Targaryen bitch and her dragons will not get this city. I will bring her kingdom to ashes before her eyes, and let her truly experience a lion's wrath, as her father and brother felt before her."

The feeling in Myrcella's chest rises higher and higher, and suddenly she realizes what it is. Rage. Her mother may have believed her to be a lioness, but Myrcella knew otherwise. She was a storm. The Lady of Storm's End. A true Queen, not one who had usurped a crown.

"Not her brother, no," Myrcella says, reaching out a hand to push her mother's hair away from her face. "Her brother never knew the lions."

Her mother leans in to her touch, and even presses a quick kiss to her forehead. "You are more like your father than you know," Cersei says, softly.

"Ours is the fury," Myrcella whispers, as she wraps her hands around her mother's neck.

"No," is all Cersei Lannister's cry, as her hands fly up to beat against her only daughter, her eyes wide in her face, as she and her only girl, the last child she has left to her, sink to the floor. "No," she chokes out again. "The valonqar--"

"Me," Myrcella says, as she sees and feels like life slip from her mother's body. It feels like vengeance, for Trystane and Robert Baratheon. It feels like justice for her Uncle Tyrion, and for the city. It feels like bravery, saving King's Landing from a madwoman.

 _Kinslaying runs in my blood_ , Myrcella thinks, as she cradles her mother's dead body. _I am a Lannister through and through_.The thought almost makes her laugh.

It is a kinder end than what Cersei was like to get from Daenerys Targaryen.

"Me," she whispers again, as she lowers her mother to the floor. "Mycella Baratheon, the first of her name, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Myrcella hears the roar of a beast above the keep and she closes her eyes.

It will be over soon.


End file.
